


and you'll know us by the stories no one tells

by pepperfield



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperfield/pseuds/pepperfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TG: im not a hero<br/>TG: my bro was<br/>TG: john is<br/>TG: im not</p>
<p>:::</p>
<p>TG: pfahahaha<br/>TG: WHAT abilities<br/>TG: i dont have any abilities</p>
            </blockquote>





	and you'll know us by the stories no one tells

 

TG: im not a hero  
TG: my bro was  
TG: john is  
TG: im not

:::

TG: pfahahaha  
TG: WHAT abilities  
TG: i dont have any abilities

\--

In one universe you go down swinging, fighting through the futility of it all.  
  
In another universe, she meets her end after blazing a path for her daughter.  
  
They're very quiet deaths.  
  
\--  
  
Each passing second resounds like the tremor of approaching footsteps, sending ripples through your blood, until the darkness returns, settling in around you, muffling everything else. With the last vestiges of light fades your anxiety. This is it. One last ditch effort. You hope everyone hurries the fuck up and gets their shit together. Nobody wants to be the sucker who died for no reason.  
  
To your left, Roxy floats down, blue tails of her shirt flipped upward, her hood pulled back. Her eyes catch yours, and she throws you a wink. "Nice sword."  
  
"Because hearing that from my teen mom is high on my bucket list," you scoff. "Right up there next to 'get psychoanalprobed by Sigmund Lalonde Jr.' and 'any activity that actually involves aliens and buckets'."  
  
"Woooow, oh my god, this is definitely the convo I always dreamed of having right before I died, weird incestual subtext and everything. How did you know. u r 2 perf." She dabs at her eyes with a sniff.  
  
"Any genetic predisposition towards bullshit is either yours or Teen Dad Strider's fault. I'm the victim here. My life's been held hostage by the half-assed innuendo and snarky avoidance tactics encoded in my DNA. No, really though. My right to live is forfeit if I don't make a Freudian slip every fifteen conversations."  
  
"Welp, there you go. We're the most fucked up ectobioblahblah family. Not like there's tons of other peeps competing at this county fair. Who are we up against, the Crockglishes? No, sorry, Crockberley- fuck, whatever. Like those Prospit dummies stand a chance. We got this in the bag, yo."  
  
She notices your sideways look at the mention of your friends and her smile flickers.  
  
"I'm kind of surprised you made it back so quickly," you mention offhandedly. Your mind starts ticking. He's coming.  
  
"Yeah, well, gettin' them outta here was the hard part. Once their butts were out of the way, all I had to do was drop a little voidey majjyk and shim sham alakabam: meddlin' friends as good as invisible to creepy asslords of time," she replies with the same unwavering flippancy you recognize in your own voice. Heh. Seems some things are genetic after all.  
  
With a flash, her rifle is in hand, and her feet planted firmly on the ground. You take a breath.  
  
"I'm starting to think buying time against the master of time might be a fucking terrible plan."  
  
She laughs shakily. "It's totes too late to be having second thoughts. You ready, Strider?"  
  
You spare one more glance in her direction. Her pale hair is in disarray and a drop of sweat rolls off the hand gripping the barrel of her gun, but her eyes. Her eyes are carved of ice. Neither of you has ever been more prepared.  
  
You nod.  
  
The darkness lifts. He is here.  
  
Maybe you'll make it out of this one alive. Only heroes die, after all.

\--

TT: My bro finally caught up with the presidents and challenged them to a duel.  
TT: For centuries thereafter, survivors of the Hilarocaust would cite the rooftop showdown as one of the most heroic moments in human history.

:::

TT: I grew up with the feeling that something more significant had always been meant for her.  
TT: And I felt she had knowledge and ability beyond what she let on. It was always intimidating, but nonetheless a source of respect which was childishly begrudging on my part.


End file.
